Lolita
by Blaue Schwertlilie
Summary: After Alfred forces Kiku out of hikkikomori-dom, Kiku finds himself falling for the younger brother. Loosely based on Nabokov's "Lolita," which is your warning and your enticement. Japan/Canada, non-explicit.


**Title:** Lolita  
><strong>CharactersPairings:** Canada, United States, Japan; Japan/Canada/Japan, US/Japan/US  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> ... it's titled _"Lolita"_. nsfw.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Hetalia and its characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz, I'm just borrowing them.

**Summary:** After Alfred forces Kiku out of hikkikomori-dom, Kiku finds himself falling for the younger brother. Loosely based on Nabokov's Lolita. Kink meme de-anon.

* * *

><p>Japan knows that he is old, perhaps one of the oldest. He remembers coming into contact with China for the first time, the Yamato clan, cord pottery. He watched as the massive burial mounds were raised, and the first Buddhists stepped onto his shores. The slow, slow growth into raised houses, then shoji-walled palaces. He has seen many things: nations rise and die in turn, a beautiful young Empress grow old and wise, his Emperor change from divine ruler to figure head to divinely ordained human.<p>

But when he sits in Alfred's living room, and watches a young blond nation stride in front of his chair, he cannot look away.

"Oh, hey Matt!" Alfred beamed. "Meet Japan. He'll be staying here for a few days. Japan, this is my little brother Canada."

Japan's eyes lock with Canada's. If Alfred looks seventeen, Canada looks perhaps fourteen. The youth, the cheerful optimism that time and war and strife have not worn away, sit differently on him than his brother. A little quieter, more understanding of tact and propriety, but so, _so_ innocent; his expression is friendly and open as he forms an impression of the older nation.

"Please, call me Matthew." He extends a hand.

Oh, yes, they shake hands here. Japan slips his hand into Canada's and wonders at Canada's - no, _Matthew's_ - easy acceptance. "Kiku."

* * *

><p>In his time at Alfred's, he listens. He hears many things: that Canada had been a colony until ten years ago, until a variety of circumstances persuaded England to grant him a sort of independence. That Canada and the United States had been settled by Europe three hundred years ago, and could not agree on which was older; that the brothers side-stepped the question of how old they truly were. (Three hundred years ago, Kiku had stood watching warlords put an end to almost a hundred and fifty years of civil war.) That they had been raised by England for parts of their history, and that England still had guardianship of the younger brother. (Matthew smiled. "He holds Canada, but not <em>me<em>.") That the governments of the brothers weren't on the best of terms, but Alfred and Matthew would slip across the border to visit anyway. (Alfred ruffled his brother's hair. "It's more exciting this way.")

He watches. Matthew moves with a self-assurance that belies his age, unless another European nation is visiting; then he shrinks down on himself, staying out of the way like a child avoiding his parents' business. (Alfred shrugged. "They're here to see me, and he's not supposed to be here.") (Kiku can't remember ever being so docile with outsiders.) The day that Matthew arrives in fancy dress, escaping from a meeting with Arthur back home, Kiku notes the way that the pants emphasize Matthew's long legs, the waistcoat his trim stomach. One night by lamplight he thinks that he sees Matthew look at him with something other than polite interest; but when he looks closer it's just another friendly smile.

He feels. Matthew is casual with touches - a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingertips - but gentler than his brother; where Alfred would pound Kiku's back, Matthew places a hand. Where Alfred would grab Kiku's shoulders and move him into position, Matthew touches Kiku's waist and guides him. His hands are rough and calloused with work. When Matthew falls asleep on the couch, Kiku finds a blanket to spread over him, and pretends that he isn't using the opportunity to discover if Matthew's hair is as soft as it looks. (It is.)

He regrets. There is no tradition of shudo here, of taking younger men under one's wing and one's body to celebrate the masculine, to teach and to guide; and he will not risk his growing friendship with the boys on an off-chance. So he stays separate from the brothers, and enjoys the time he has.

* * *

><p>He begins to spend more time at Alfred's house. He tells him that it's for friendship, and understanding, and growth; but Kiku admits to himself it is for Matthew. For the chance to see him, to talk with him, to be touched by him.<p>

When Alfred becomes drunk and makes advances, Kiku doesn't reject him, unwilling to jeopardize his connection to the younger brother. The next morning Alfred apologises, once he has sobered, and Kiku tells him not to mind. This gives him an excuse to visit more often.

They keep it casual; as Alfred calls it, "friends with benefits." It is difficult, sometimes, to be so close to someone after spending so long alone, but he sees it as practice. And if, on occasion, he closes his eyes and pretends it is the other brother touching him, Alfred does not seem to notice. Kiku believes this is due to his own near-silence during sex, and tries not to think too hard about the implications for both of them.

* * *

><p>The turn of a century brings a party atmosphere to the Western world. Kiku does not understand - time is a construction, after all, and he also calls this the 32nd year of the Meiji period, and Koki 2560. All of them apply. He pulls at the hem of his jacket, and wishes he could be home, where he could wear his kimono, perhaps dress the brothers in silks and brocades to watch the first sunrise of the new year, before taking Matthew aside to slide the layers of fabric away, to-<p>

But no, he is at Alfred's house tonight, on New Year's Eve. His Emperor has decreed that officials wear Western clothing while on business, and who could be more official than Japan itself? So he wears the pants and the shirt and the jacket while he sips sake and watches the party celebrate. He has had perhaps too much to drink when he sees Matthew slip into the room. Matthew, flushed and laughing and shaking the snow from his hair.

Alfred zeroes in on his brother, grinning and pounding him on his back. Kiku can hear snatches of their conversation over the music: "Didn't think you'd make it-" and "Busy at home-" and "Let me introduce you to-"

Kiku watches Alfred lead his brother from diplomat to official, merchant to governor's daughter. Matthew has hardly aged in twenty years, his smile as easy and open as a child's. The younger women giggle and bat their eyelashes at him; he bows and asks them to dance, leading them around the floor in a flutter of ruffles and lace. While his practice at staying unnoticed has paid off for him with other nations, he is nothing resembling invisible here, even when his brother is pulled away to supervise the laying out of another course of food.

Kiku takes another sip of the sake. He regrets, again, that there is no equivalent to what he wants in the West, with Matthew; no way to take hold of the boy without pushing him away. But the sake is warm, a gentle fuzziness spreading through his veins, and he relaxes into his chair.

It is shortly before midnight when Matthew drops into the seat next to Kiku's, loosens his tie ever-so-slightly. "Enjoying the party?"

He considers. "It has been educational."

Matthew laughs, that beautiful happy sound, and turns his brilliant smile on Kiku. "I can imagine. Have you had anything to eat yet?"

No. "I am not hungry, thank you." A pause. "You slipped out from your own party, tonight?"

"New Year's is more fun with friends, don't you think?"

Does he see an edge in Matthew's eyes, a second question in his voice? No, it is the alcohol talking. "Certainly. I wonder how many will be awake for the sunrise, however."

"Not many." As if it is the most natural thing in the world, he tilts his head and asks: "Can I have some of that?"

"The sake? You're too young." The alcohol is holding a second conversation for him, he's sure of it now.

A chuckle, lower and more controlled than his laugh. "I'm older than I look." He props his chin on his hand. "And legalities haven't stopped us before, have they?"

Kiku gracefully admits defeat and hands Matthew the small cup, fingers brushing. He holds it beneath his nose for a moment, as if it were a glass of wine, then takes a slow sip. Kiku watches his lips mould themselves to the edge of the cup, the column of his throat as he swallows. He imagines those lips moulding themselves to his cock, that throat working as it swallows him down, and takes back the cup, a little hastily.

Matthew raises an eyebrow, but doesn't fight him. Kiku reaches for the tokkuri, lifting the bottle from the dish of warm water, and fills the cup.

He offers the sake again. "You do not seem surprised at its strength."

Matthew takes the cup. "I've been making stronger whiskey for.. a long time now." A sip.

Kiku looks out at the party. "Decades?"

"Yeah, some really nice ones too. The next time you visit, I'll make you a hot toddy."

"I would be honoured." Kiku accepts the cup, takes another sip, and they slip into a comfortable silence.

The clock ticks closer to midnight, and Alfred calls everyone's attention to the approaching new year. He begins the countdown, and the crowd joins in, giggling. "Five.. four..."

Matthew's voice is smooth. "Three.. two.. one..."

The room erupts in a "Happy New Year!" Couples kiss, children laugh, and Kiku turns to Matthew, caught up in the joy and the sake, and leans in to kiss him. Matthew's lips are as soft as he imagined; they hesitate slightly before moving against his. He tastes of sweetness and sake, and Kiku knows that he will never think of maple syrup the same way again. They part, gently, and his brain starts to catch up with his actions.

What has he- He shouldn't have- _DAMN_.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and flees from the room, from Matthew, berating himself for destroying his non-existent chances with the boy.

* * *

><p>He sits on a porch, wrapped up in blankets, and watches the sun come up over the trees. The first of the new year. He wonders when he will be able to visit a temple to make an offering; not for weeks, probably.<p>

A board creaks, and Matthew walks into view, wearing a warm jacket but the same pants as last night. Didn't he bring a change of clothes? Kiku refuses to admit that Matthew might have been awake all night, like himself, and waits for him to get this over with. He is old, and he is patient.

Matthew is young, and impulsive, though more patient than his brother; he only waits two minutes before speaking. "I know that you think I'm some young innocent thing, that you'd be corrupting me or breaking some code or something, but I'm as old as Alfred, and I'm old enough to know what I want."

Kiku looks at the patch of woods, the songbirds fluffing themselves on the branches.

He huffs, his curl bobbing in the air. "Okay, so you're massively older than me, and I don't have as much experience as you. But I am _not_ innocent. The last three hundred years I've been fought over by France and England, or England and the States, I've been torn apart and put back together, and my own brother has repeatedly invaded me. I don't want my people to die for their independence so I'm growing slower than Al did."

He waits; Kiku watches the birds.

"Jesus Mary and Joseph, you're worse than Arthur in a mood. Fine. I'm old enough to know what I want, and to go after it. I'd thought that the unnecessary visits and contact and for the love of _God_ last night would have shown you I'm interested, but apparently I wasn't direct enough. So." He moves in front of Kiku, who looks through Matthew's stomach instead, keeping his expression blank. Matthew's hand moves to Kiku's jaw, tilts up his face; he leans down and kisses Kiku. A brush of lips at first, then Matthew's tongue, a warm contrast to the dawn air.

And Kiku succumbs, pulling the other closer toward him, running chilled fingertips through that silky hair. He is old, he is patient, and he _wants_. Matthew is the first to pull away, his breath soft puffs of air against Kiku's cheek.

"You need to learn some respect, boy," Kiku murmurs.

Matthew grins, all that is wild and untamed about him dancing through his eyes. "Only if you'll teach me."

Kiku laughs quietly - at Matthew, at himself, at this crazy yet beautiful world that allowed them to meet - and Matthew joins in as he sits next to Kiku, settles against his side. They are silent for a moment while Matthew twines their fingers; then Kiku tilts Matthew's face toward his own. "How did you find me?"

"Alfred. He said you'd mentioned something about watching the first dawn of the new year."

"Mm," he says, noncommittally.

Matthew is improving at reading the nuances, and continues speaking. "He also said that if we were ever interested in a threesome, he'd be glad to join in. Something about a 'Kiku sandwich.'"

He snorts; typically crass language from the older brother. "Your brother is many things," he says gently, aware of his own irony, "but he is not stupid."

Matthew's smile is all the forgiveness and affection he could ask for, and he knows that he has said the right thing. He turns back to the sunrise, which is just cresting the trees, and allows himself to wonder what other discoveries this new century might bring.

* * *

><p><span>Historical Notes:<span>

Japan has a history of m/m adult-youth relationships, called shudo. Not dissimilar to Ancient Greek pederasty (adult male/teenage boy), it was supposed to be good for both parties, teaching the younger virtue, honour, etc; and both would avoid having sex with women, which was considered feminising. Naturally, it declined quickly in the Meiji era.

Hot toddies are a winter drink, and every recipe is different: (tea or lemon juice or hot water) + (whiskey or bourbon) + (spices and sweetener). OP told me that there are also non-alcoholic versions. :)


End file.
